


when darkness comes upon you

by hollow_dweller



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Guns, Identity Reveal, Minor Injuries, Morgan Stark Needs a Hug (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker is just a tired college student who wants to spend the day with his kid sister, Sorry Pete, Whump, is that too much to ask?, of the emotional variety mostly, she gets one, the answer is yes yes it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_dweller/pseuds/hollow_dweller
Summary: Peter’s stared down the barrel of a gun a hundred times, in his tenure as Spider-Man. More, probably. It’s at the point where a gun barely even phases him, hardly registers as more than a prickle of his senses, danger low and humming and largely immaterial. Guns are just… easy to deal with, at this point. He’s seen so, so much worse.That is, until he sees someone holding a gun to eight-year-old Morgan Stark’s head.*Whumptober day 3: Held at Gunpoint
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935892
Comments: 10
Kudos: 177
Collections: Spider-Man Public Identity Reveal, Whumptober 2020





	when darkness comes upon you

**Author's Note:**

> whumptober day 3 coming in just under the wire. this is my fill for the prompt "held at gunpoint". it is very much just an excuse for protective Big Brother Pete and i am not ashamed to admit that. 
> 
> title from "Be Still" by The Fray

The most fucked up part of it all, Peter thinks, later, when everything has died down, the bad guys carted away, and Morgan safe and back with her parents, is that the assholes weren’t even _th_ _ ere _ for Morgan.

She was just, for once in her life, a casualty of circumstance. 

They’re at a coffee shop, of all places, when it happens. Morgan is settled into a comically-large armchair near the window, one that dwarfs her small frame entirely. It’s a prime spot for people-watching and she does so eagerly, practically draped over the arm of the chair so she can press close to the glass, observing the people on the street as they go about their days. 

Peter keeps her in the periphery of his vision as he stands in line, waiting to order them both more hot chocolate. He’s been tasked with Morgan-wrangling for the day, taking her off of Pepper and Tony’s hands while they work to prepare for a Board meeting. He’s glad to do it; he loves spending time with her, something he doesn’t get to do as often now that he spends 8 months of the year in Cambridge. And besides, if it weren’t for her,  _ he’d _ be stuck helping with Board prep as well, in his capacity as dubiously-official personal intern to Tony Stark, so getting to spend the day with her is a win on all fronts. 

The person standing in front of him moves aside, having completed their order, and Peter turns away from Morgan to smile at the cashier as he steps up to the counter. 

Abruptly, his senses kick into high alert, hair on the back of his neck standing on end, and several things happen at once. 

The door bursts open, smacking against the wall with a thundering crash. Two men practically fall through the door, brandishing guns, both of them yelling at everyone to get down or they’ll shoot, voices overlapping. Peter thinks he hears the actual words “this is a stick up,” and  _ wow _ he’s kind of hoping someone is recording this, because he can’t wait to see what twitter has to say about these two losers and their bad 1930’s dialogue. 

He rolls his eyes and presses his finger to the panic button on his watch. That’s when he sees the cashier, wide-eyed and trembling, fumbling a gun of his own out from under the counter. 

Unfortunately, one of the geniuses in the doorway sees it too. 

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Peter says, and leaps over the counter. 

Screams ring out as a gunshot cracks through the air. Peter’s already shoving the dumb, frightened cashier down to the ground, twisting his body between the him and the gun. He feels a line of fire sear across his shoulders- the shot went wide, only grazing his skin. He can already feel blood soaking into his shirt, but the wound will be closed within minutes, and it’s far from the worst gunshot wound he’s ever had. 

He knocks the gun out of the hapless cashier’s hand, scowling down at him. 

“Dude,” he hisses, annoyed. “Don’t do that. Just stay down here and wait for the cops to come, alright?” 

“Wha-” the guy starts, sounding dazed. 

Suddenly, the shop falls silent, except for a single, pitiful whimper. Peter stands, turning to face the room, heart pounding in his chest.

Here’s the thing. Peter’s stared down the barrel of a gun a hundred times, in his tenure as Spider-Man. More, probably. It’s at the point where a gun barely even phases him, hardly registers as more than a prickle of his senses, danger low and humming and largely immaterial. Guns are just… easy to deal with, at this point. He’s seen so, so much worse. 

That is, until he sees someone holding a gun to eight-year-old Morgan Stark’s head. 

_ He must have grabbed her because she’s right next to the window _ , some distant, removed part of him says, evaluating.  _ And because she’s a little girl, and nobody will want to risk her getting hurt _ . 

The guy’s got one hand on her shoulder, the other pressing the barrel of his gun to her temple. Already he can see the skin is red; he’s pressing the gun against her head so hard she’ll almost certainly have a bruise. She’s crying, in that contained, silent way she does when she’s truly upset or frightened, as opposed to throwing a tantrum or seeking attention. Her fists are balled up at her side, but she’s holding herself carefully still, mouth pressed firmly closed. 

Her eyes are wide when they meet Peter’s, but the fright he reads there recedes once she catches sight of him, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. Comforted by his presence, trusting that he’ll save her. 

Beneath the lip of the counter, Peter taps his wrists together, activating his webshooters. Distantly he’s aware of the frightened murmurs of the other patrons, the harsh breathing of the two robbers, audible even through the rushing of his own blood in his ears. 

“Buddy, I really don’t think you want to do that,” Peter says, voice even and low. 

“Shut the fuck up,” the guy snarls, voice edged slightly with hysteria. “We just want the fucking money.” 

“Come on man,” the other guy says, eyes darting back and forth between his partner and Morgan, his own gun seemingly forgotten, pointing vaguely down at the floor by his side.    


The guy holding Morgan snarls again, whipping his head towards his buddy, and that’s when Peter strikes. 

He throws out a web, leaping back over the counter, and yanking when it connects with the gun. Then he’s whipping it away, hitting the partner in the face as it goes, causing him to drop his own gun with a clatter and clutch at his suddenly broken nose, blood spraying out from between his fingers. 

Peter throws another web, trapping the guy’s hands against his face, then turns back to Morgan and her captor. She’s struggling against him now, one of his arms trying to wrap around her waist, hauling her body against his as a shield against Peter. 

She throws a lucky elbow- and small as she is, Peter knows from experience that those things  _ hurt _ when she wants them to- and the guy stumbles back as she catches him right in the solar plexus. He drops her with a grunt, and she scrambles away, towards the relative shelter of a nearby group of huddled patrons. 

The guy lunges after her with a snarl, but Peter, of course, is faster. 

In the blink of an eye he’s across the room, hands coming to grip tightly onto the guy’s shirt, and tosses him bodily into the window. He hits it so hard the glass cracks, a spider-web of fractures shooting out from the point of impact, heading bouncing off the glass, knocking him out cold. Peter follows up with another web, securing his limp body to the glass before he can fall. 

For a moment, he just stands there, panting harshly despite how short the fight was, adrenaline buzzing in his veins. 

Then he hears a cry from behind him, and turns just in time to catch Morgan as she launches herself at him.

She presses her face into his shoulder and bursts into sobs, huge, gasping things that wrack her body, like they’re being physically ripped out of her. He cradles the back of her head, nonsense dropping out of his mouth, a torrent of soothing shushes and meaningless comfort, trying to stop himself from bursting into tears alongside her. 

“Sssh, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay. You’re safe now,” he says, the endearment that May always used when he was hurt or frightened- that she  _ still _ uses, if he’s being entirely honest- falling from his mouth reflexively. 

She burrows closer, sobs evening out to something steadier, quieter. Her tears are soaking into his shirt, dampening the skin underneath, but he just rests his head on top of hers, rubbing soothing circles into her back and rocking them both, slowly. 

In the background he can hear people start to shuffle around, and spares a second for a momentary flare of nerves- he just outed himself to everyone in this coffee shop. Depending on if any of them have posted about this to social media yet- or worse, streamed a video- his secret might be shot. 

Then Morgan tightens her strong, wiry arms where they’re looped around his neck, her voice registering to his ears, muffled against the fabric of his shirt: “ _ Thank you for saving me. _ ”

He closes his eyes, holding her tighter, and listens to the approaching sound of sirens, and beneath them, the distant, familiar whine of repulsors rocketing towards them. 

_ Worth it, _ he thinks.  _ Totally worth it.  _

**Author's Note:**

> i sincerely hope you all enjoyed! i would love to hear your thoughts, whatever they may be. hit me up in the comments if you are so inclined! 
> 
> also, you can come hang out/scream at me on [tumblr](https://hollow-dweller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> finally, subscribe to the series if you'd like to read more whump from me! it will be mostly Spider-Man and/or Iron Dad, with some Pilgrimage (2017)


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